


a hundred lifetimes

by mirkandmidnight



Series: author's favorites [3]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Everybody Lives, F/M, I Blame Tumblr, I'm Sorry, M/M, except mercutio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkandmidnight/pseuds/mirkandmidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The universe conspires so that everything almost, maybe works out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a hundred lifetimes

**Author's Note:**

> So, the premise of this fic is a conversation that I had with [ this nerd](http://loving-neko.tumblr.com/), the basis of which was that everything in Romeo and Juliet would have been solved if Romeo had just sat there and cried a little bit longer in three key spots. Um. Yeah. So.

She was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. Well read, witty, and eloquent? She was like looking at the sun, and she had pierced through the darkness of his melancholic humor in mere seconds. She, Juliet, was a jewel among women.

She, a Capulet.

She, the daughter of his family's greatest enemy.

God's blood.

Looking back over the garden wall, he could see the light in her window gutter and go out, and with it, he was plunged into darkness. What was he going to do? The moment he declared his intentions, there would be Capulets lining up in the streets to spit him on their swords. He would lucky to get out of the city without a fight. 

And chances were that they wouldn't ever get married respectably. There was no way Lord Capulet would consent to their union, and he had no intention of fleeing with Juliet in the night like a pair of criminals, as if they had done something wrong. They hadn't. 

What could he do? He loved her. He loved her beyond all reckoning, and to be without her might just kill him. He was certain that to see someone else marry her would. 

He sat down with a thump and rested his head in his hands, the panic screaming inside him. There was no solution; there was no way out.

“Romeo!” From somewhere off in the distance, he could hear his friends calling for him. Evidently they hadn't given up. They'd tried to search him out before he'd spoken to Juliet, and still they were looking for him. Romeo could see their torches coming closer. 

He froze for a second too long. Mercutio and Benvolio emerged from the darkness, clothes rumpled and laughing merrily.

Mercutio clapped him on the shoulder. “Romeo, you scoundrel! Is this where you've hidden yourself? Too long we've been looking for you, and here you are, outside Capulet's back garden.” He took a closer look at him. “God's wounds, you look horrible. What can be wrong?”

“No doubt he has been pining after some lady lover. The fair Rosaline?” Benvolio's more solemn gaze was fixed on Romeo's face. After a moment's observation, he continued. “Or perhaps his eye is on some new woman.”

Mercutio guffawed. “Never! After all his long hours of pining after Rosaline? I can hardly think it true. Well, who is she, then? What fair jewel has caught the eye of our young Montague?”

He paused for a moment and thought. It was an enormous risk to tell his friends. Better to grapple with his affections in private. But then, they were tolerably intelligent people. Perhaps they might have a solution to his problem. 

“It is Juliet, the fair daughter of my family's mortal foe.” The words came out before he could stop them, and immediately, the mood soured. The easy smiles fell off his friends' faces.

“Do not worry, my friend,” Mercutio began, sitting Romeo down crouching next to him. “We will find an answer. Benvolio is learned, and clever beyond his years.”

Across from them, Benvolio paced up and down the grove, muttering to himself, while Mercutio consoled Romeo with the worst puns imaginable. It's moments like these that Romeo was infinitely glad Destiny threw the three of them together that day when all three of them decided to abandon their lessons. Mercutio had dragged them all to the market, and they'd bought a loaf of bread and thrown pebbles at passing ladies.

After a moment, Benvolio stopped in his tracks and laughed aloud. “I have it,” he said, and the other two vaulted to their feet. 

“Well?” Romeo demanded.

He turned to face them. “Lord Capulet is known to be seeking a suitor for his daughter. He wishes her to marry, just not a Montague. I propose that we send forth our own suitor, someone who will be suitably impressive and yet not press his new wife for favors.”

“Even if we could find such a man, how might we induce him to marry Juliet on such a slight reward? A cold marriage bed is worse than none at all.”

Benvolio waggled his eyebrows. “There are certain men of this city who do not ask favors of their wives, or indeed, of any woman at all.” He cleared his throat. “Mercutio?”

Mercutio flushed red. “Yes, well, there is no reason to assume thatI am preferable to Romeo.”

“You are the Prince's kin,” Benvolio pointed out, “and I have no doubt your lord father and lady mother would prefer you to stop being so demonstrative in your desires. A marriage could provide you with the disguise you desire and give you freedom to act as you please. Then, Romeo and I pool our funds and buy the house next to yours, and live there together as bachelors.”

Mercutio nodded slowly. “It is a good plan, and easily put into place. Romeo, tomorrow go to your lady and tell her of our plan, and hear what she has to say. If she gives her consent, then our course is set.”

A fortnight later, the wedding of Lord Mercutio and Lady Juliet took place. Romeo was best man, and as Lord Capulet escorted Juliet up the aisle, they exchanged matching grins.

**That's how it could have happened...**

**But what about this?**

Mercutio was dead, slain by the treacherous, murderous Tybalt, who had fled. Romeo was left in the dusty street, Benvolio in some house, and the body of one of his best friends lying in the road. Tears streamed freely down his face. 

How had he allowed this to happen? Tybalt had struck the fatal blow, but it was Romeo himself who had come between them, giving him the means to strike. Was this not, then, the fault of Romeo himself?

It could not be. Tybalt would pay for this in blood. He rose and moved to follow the fled Capulet, but Benvolio reappeared from the nearby house and held him back by the arm.

“I know what you would do,” he said, “but forbear a while. By order of the Prince, all those who fight in the street are herefore doomed to die. If you fight Tybalt, you must die. But if we fetch the watch now and tell them what has happened, by law Tybalt must die. There our desire for vengeance must end.”

Romeo attempted to pull away, not listening, but Benvolio shook him. “Romeo,” he said, voice cracking with emotion, “Tybalt is already dead. Killing him yourself will only continue this strife. Think of Juliet!” This, above anything else, cut through the fog of grief and rage. “Would you have me tell her you are condemned to die? Hm?” He paused, locking eyes with Romeo. “Do not think you are the only one touched by Mercutio's death.”

He relaxed slightly. “Fine. I suppose you have reason.”

“I am glad to see your mind has not deserted you. Furthermore, I can, with this tragedy, cement your marriage to Juliet.” Benvolio paused. “After this outbreak of new strife, the Prince will be seeking a way to reconcile your two families. Go to him. Confide in him your love for Juliet, and he will no doubt bless your marriage.” He clasped Romeo's hand. “Take heart, my friend. All is not lost.”

**But here's what really happened.**

The air in the tomb was stale and dank, no doubt filled with unwholesome humors. Outside lay the body of young Paris, which gnawed at his conscience. The youth was, by all accounts, well reputed and good. He did not deserve to die. But that was not the chief subject on Romeo's mind. His subject lay ten feet in front of him, dressed in her finest array, and was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

He paced forward to kneel next to her tomb and clasped her hand. How was she yet so fair? Beauty's crimson ensign still hung on her cheeks and lips. Her beauty was maddening. She did not look as though death had claimed her. Indeed, it seemed as though any moment, she might wake from her slumber and smile at him.

But she would not. Never would he see her sweet smile, or feel the press of her her lips against his. He curled in on himself and let sobs wrack his body. How had it come to this?

Romeo knew not how long he remained there, but his tears were stopped by the movement of her fingers against his.

He looked up, wiping the tears from his cheeks with his other hand. Juliet was looking up at him, and smiling.

How was this possible? She had been dead not two minutes ago. It was miraculous!

“My Romeo,” she said, “I knew you would not fail me.”

He knew not how this had come to pass, but found he did not care. Romeo leaned forward and claimed her lips with his.

Minutes (Hours? He knew not) later, the good Friar Lawrence's voice cut them off. “My lady?” he whispered. “Come forth from that nest of vile contagion. My message has gone astray, and you must flee. The watch is in arms, and we have very little time.”

He pulled away and stood, offering his hand to help her up. Juliet accepted his hand and turned to face Friar Lawrence.

“It matters not that your messenger has failed,” she said. “Cupid, love's own messenger, has sped before him and brought Romeo to me.”

Friar Lawrence blinked with surprise. “Ah. Excellent. Nevertheless, the two of you must flee, and quickly.”

They flee into the night, and although the night is cold, Romeo's heart is warm when he looks at Juliet beside him.


End file.
